From Surviving to Thriving

It is hard to believe that 2015 is just hours away now.

As I reflect back on 2014, I can say with great confidence that it is not a year I will ever forget. The year was full of great joy and great sorrow. Many lessons were learned, relationships changed, and wisdom gained.

From January to the beginning of April, we were eagerly awaiting the arrival of our sweet Brooklyn. We spent a lot of this time specifically preparing our house and getting a few big jobs done. We had our windows and doors replaced, installed carpet upstairs, had the remainder of the house painted, and flipped the nursery from an extra storage room to a room fit for a little girl. I also had my baby showers during this time, and spent many days at home in full nesting mode. Derek and I made sure we had many date nights in the first few months of the year, as we knew once the baby arrived, this opportunity wouldn't come as easy.

April-June was a time of great mourning. I can honestly say that I walked in a very big fog during these months. Between recovering from giving birth, being in shock from the loss of our daughter, and having this shock turn to anger and great sadness, I have never felt so many emotions at once, and all so deeply. We travelled to San Diego, L.A., and San Francisco, and were able to enjoy some time together  outside of our new normal. This trip was so good for our marriage. I will forever be thankful for that gift.

We found out we were pregnant again on June 22nd. Still mourning, we began to feel a little bit of joy again. This joy was (and is ) very much guarded, as we began walking the line of grief and hope. Grieving the loss of Brooklyn, being hopeful that the outcome of this pregnancy would be different, and all the while being completely terrified of the journey that lay ahead.

July-September was wedding season. We attended four weddings this year, one each month starting at the end of June. Normally I love weddings, but this year was different. I had pictured having our girl attend all of these weddings with us, which made it really hard for me. I also didn't realize how many emotions would be brought to the surface for me. It was particularly difficult for me to listen to each of the parents of the bride give their speeches. I wondered if Derek and I would ever have the opportunity to be the parents of the bride, giving our daughter away and sharing funny stories of her childhood.

I was also really sick during this time. My morning sickness tapered off in the beginning of September, and thankfully has only returned twice for a couple of days in a row, since. I transferred to a different Starbucks and finally felt settled into our "new normal".

Early October we found out we are pregnant with another girl, and from that point on, this pregnancy has gone fairly quickly.

The hardest times for me this year have been the milestones (3 months, 6 months), the holidays, and big events that we had just pictured being different. I have said before how difficult Thanksgiving was for us, and Christmas was no easier. I intentionally took a break from social media from Christmas Eve to Boxing Day night. We were so busy these days that it made it go by fairly quickly. Of course Christmas morning was really hard, but Derek helped to make this Christmas a little more special this year. Brooklyn was remembered, and baby A was hoped for - both through special gifts we received this year. We started a new tradition this year too to keep Brooklyn's memory alive. We sponsored a mom with a baby around Brooklyn's age. We hope to do this every Christmas, as it will help us remember our girl, and remind any living children we are blessed with that their big sister is very much missed and continues to be loved and thought of.

To say that I am excited to see 2014 go would be both truthful and a lie. The more time that passes, the less I remember what it felt like to hold our daughter in my arms, and the further away she feels. I have yet to hold a newborn this year, because I'm terrified that if I do, any memory I have left of this feeling will be gone. I honestly don't think I'll be able to until a living baby our of own fills these aching arms of mine.

This year was monumental for our marriage. I have learned more about Derek this year alone, than in the rest of the 5 years we have been together combined. I have also learned about myself personally, and as a wife. Thankful will simply never be a good enough word when it comes to how I feel about my husband. I honestly don't know if I would have survived the past 9 months without him. Our marriage is stronger than it has ever been, and my love for him has never been deeper. He continues to show me what it is like to truly love and be selfless. That is not to say that we haven't had hard days along the way, or that arguments haven't happened as a result of mourning in different ways. But seeing him learn to be a father to both our daughter who has passed, and our daughter who is living helps to mend this broken heart. He has provided me with hope on days when I really doubt baby A will be coming home with us, and continues to be excited for this little one's arrival. I know he is scared too, but he is always positive and speaks confidently about her safe arrival.

Much of 2014 was spent simply surviving, without any time or energy to feel as if I was thriving. As we move into 2015, I wish for this to be a year where I feel like I can thrive again. I hope beyond hope that we have a healthy, living, breathing baby join us in February. And I hope I can feel as if I am using my God-given gifts and talents again. My whole life, I have wanted to be a wife and a mother. I even changed my educational path in high school to something that could be more flexible to ensure I could be the best wife and mom in the future. I want to spend 2015 continuing to learn about Derek and continuing to learn how to better love him. While I am already a mother to Brooklyn, I so badly want to experience mothering a living child. I hope and pray that this opportunity comes to me in February.

I want this to be a year where I continue to know the important things in life, and strive to be more loving to those around me. I want to spend less time on social media, and more time with people who are important to me. I wI want to continue learning about who God is, who He wants me to be, and How I can better serve him by bringing His Kingdom forth in this world. I am thankful for the ways He has used Brooklyn's tragic loss to redeem this broken world.

And of course, losing the baby weight this spring wouldn't be so bad either :) What would a New Year's resolution be without some sort of fitness goal? I continue to be amazed at the two little people my body has grown, and am so thankful for these blessings. But my body has changed so much during these two pregnancies and I am looking forward to being able to focus on eating better and getting back into running.

I pray that 2015 is full of good news, great joy and if there is any more heartache that comes our way, we will have the strength to get through it. I know that there will continue to be days of great mourning,  but I am looking forward to a year of beginning to dream and thrive again.

A Valentine's Day Babe

Today at our OB appointment, we learned that our induction has been scheduled! It just so happens that in my 37th week of pregnancy, my OB is on call on the Saturday - which happens to be February 14th! Unless baby A doesn't pass her biophysical profile ultrasounds or non-stress tests and needs to come even sooner, we may have ourselves a Valentine's day baby! What better way to celebrate the day with Derek than to bring the ultimate symbol of our love into the world - a baby who was created because of our love for each other.

Of course there is always a chance that she will come on the 15th instead of the 14th, but we've been told that labour will go much more quickly this time around with baby A being our second, and not having the stress of knowing our baby has died inside of me. It only took me 20 minutes to actually deliver Brooklyn, and we've also been told that with a living baby who is able to push herself down, this too may go even quicker. However, we of all people know that anything can happen during labour, so while I am excited for a February 14th baby, I'm also preparing myself for the possibility of a baby on February 15th - which would be just as exciting.

My weekly ultrasounds started yesterday. We got the results back at our appointment today, and everything looks great! My amniotic fluid levels are normal, as is the blood flow through the umbilical cord, and baby A got 100% on her biophysical profile test! She is close to 3lbs already, which is over the 90th percentile for her gestation. I have a feeling even with her early arrival, this baby is going to be big! So far, things are looking great. Our weekly non-stress tests start Friday and will continue until the 13th of February. All of our tests will take place at McMaster, so if anything looks concerning, they will send me straight to Labour and Delivery for further evaluation.

I started this pregnancy off having "shared care" between the OB and midwife, but my care was recently transferred completely over to the OB, with the midwives in a "supportive care" position. What this means is that our OB will have complete responsibility for us, and I will meet with the midwife for more of a supportive role. This is exciting to us, as it means that the OB will deliver baby A, but our midwife will be there to support me through labour and delivery too! How many people get to have both an OB AND a midwife in the room for delivery? We feel very blessed for this opportunity.

I had planned to be working until December 28th, but my OB decided it was best for my health to be off earlier, so my last day was actually December 4th. At first I thought I was going to go stir crazy sitting around, but so far all of my appointments have kept me quite busy. This week for example, I have an appointment every day from Monday-Friday. I'm okay with this though! It means that there are lots of eyes on our baby girl.

Thank you for your continued love, support, and prayers during this long and trying journey. We are very much looking forward to February 14th, and the joy we hope this day will bring.

"Mom's" Legacy

On Mother's Day, I wrote a post about how Brooklyn had a new neighbour in the cemetery. Derek and I noticed that the flowers and wreaths left at the gravesite said "Mom" on them. I remember having such a heavy heart knowing that a family had to bury their mother so close to Mother's Day. I also remember saying to Derek that day how unfair it was that this lady was able to live such a long life, while Brooklyn's was cut so short.

This morning I received a message on Facebook from someone I have never met. His name is Russ and he told me that it is his mother who lays beside our sweet girl.

"I lost my Mom on May 6th the night before my 44th birthday after her 9 year battle with Cancer. One of the most reassuring things of this difficult Spring was when I saw her little friend next to her. I don't want to intrude at all so all I will say is that My Mom had Five of us kids, Eight Grandchildren and One Great Grandchild. She kept it a secret from all of us that her Cancer had come back and it was a blessing that when her time came it was quick and she suffered very little. I can't imagine how it has been for you but today when my Sister and I went to Moms' grave I saw Brooklyns' Headstone and it stopped me in my tracks. My good friend from work had a baby girl on November 3rd named... Brooklyn.
Just know that my Mom is the best possible person other than yourself that Brooklyn could have watching over her for all eternity. Like I said...it gives me a very warm feeling inside because it's fitting. Mom dedicated her entire life to all of us kids and was selfless right to the end to protect us from hurt. Sorry to bother you at this time but I know they are both safe and warm forever more.
Hope this Holiday season brings you Peace"

This message brought me such comfort. It still feels so unfair that we have had to bury a child already, and I think it always will. But knowing that she is beside a lady who leaves such a legacy, helps make an unfair situation feel just a little bit better. 

I am so very thankful that Russ reached out and contacted me. And I hope that one day I will meet him as we visit our very special ladies, knowing that they are both "safe and warm forevermore."

The Season of Hope

The Christmas season has already been really challenging for me. I have yet to put up our Christmas decorations, or even think about buying a tree. By now, I'm normally well into the Christmas spirit and playing Christmas songs any chance I get. But not this year.

I've said before how difficult holidays are for us, but Christmas is just the cherry on top. I think it has something to do with how overboard we go for Christmas as a society. It feels like I am continually confronted with the fact that our firstborn baby girl will not be spending Christmas with us. Whether it's "baby's first Christmas" outfits or ornaments, pictures of little ones by the tree, or the few things I bought on sale last year in anticipation of having a little 8 month old with us to open her presents.

I have never been one to love the commercialization of Christmas. Growing up, my mum and dad always made sure we had presents and stockings that were full, but never went overboard like some of my friends' parents. I am so incredibly thankful for this, because now as an adult, Christmas isn't about the presents to me. It's about the excitement, the baking, the dinners, the joy it brings, and celebrating with family and friends. But this year, even this has been taken away. The one little person I want here most just can't be.

Yesterday our pastors spoke on the season of advent and "making space for God." Later that night, a friend I went to school with posted a picture about anticipating "the season of hope," and someone else of the word "Hope" lit up in their front window. These things were exactly what I needed. I needed to be reminded that thousands of years ago, the nation of Israel was given hope in the form of a little baby.

This baby provided hope for the entire world by later dying for our sins and taking on the burden so we wouldn't have to. My favourite Christmas carol says it best - "A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!" He provided hope to a very tired, oppressed society. And He continues to provide hope to the entire world. On a quiet night, a baby was born in a stable, with no medical intervention or equipment, to a mother and father who were very unprepared for Him. He is the ultimate provider of hope and restoration.

Please pray for us during this incredibly difficult season. I keep telling Derek that I wish I could close my eyes, wake up, and have December be over. Or maybe it would just be easier to wake up in February... I am thankful that December will be busy for us, and that my time will be full of my final few weeks of work and many appointments. This whole season is hard for us, but I have a feeling that waking up on Christmas morning to a house that is quieter than we would like, will be especially difficult.

Also, please remember that Christmas isn't a joyful season for everybody. Not just for us or others who are grieving, but people who struggle to put food on their table, pay their hydro bill, don't know how they will provide their children with presents, or simply don't have any family members or close friends to spend Christmas with. Please prayerfully consider donating somewhere or sponsoring a family or child, instead of buying those "extra" gifts that people simply don't need. And in the mix of the Christmas rushing and craziness, please take the time to be grateful for the people around you, remembering that time is never a guarantee.

While I am in no way implying that our anticipation of baby A's arrival should be compared to the birth of Jesus, I am encouraged by remembering that this is the Season of Hope. And that maybe, Christmas next year will look a little different. Always one person short, but maybe this time next year, we will have a little one waking up with us on Christmas morning. Maybe our house will be full of the sound of giggles and joy, instead of the silence I am very much dreading.

For now, we hang onto the hope that baby A will arrive safely in our arms just over a month after Christmas.

Unanswered Prayers

Something I have been much more aware of since losing Brooklyn, is the language people use when it comes to "God's will".

Baby announcements are made and people often reply "Praise God!" or "What an answer to prayer!"

Many people have said to us that we need to "trust in God because he has a plan for us." "He has all of our days written out already."

While these things are often well intended, I have become more and more uncomfortable with the "Christianese" terms and phrases that often roll off our tongues without a second thought.

But what happens when God doesn't answer prayers? I prayed for Brooklyn often during my pregnancy. The day I went into labour I spent time in her nursery praying over her, asking God to help her arrive safely.

Why do we assume that God is this big puppeteer up in the sky who is making all of these good things happen in our life?And why do we think that when tragedy strikes in our lives, that the automatic explanation for this is "it's all in God's plan," and "we'll know the reason one day."

One of my favourite worship songs is "In Christ Alone." I have trouble singing it these says because of the line - "From life's first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny." Does this mean then that God planned for Brooklyn to die? Was this God's purpose for her life? And does this then mean that it's in God's plan for people to be taken too soon from cancer or other tragedies?

How can this be the same God? The one who choose certain babies to arrive safely, certain people to live into their 90's, and the one who takes others too soon? If this is who we believe God is, it then means that He chooses to answer certain prayers and not others. Does God play favourites?

I believe with all of my heart that it was not in God's plan for Brooklyn to die. I believe that He mourned with us, and continues to mourn with us over her loss.

Don't get me wrong, I believe that God has used Brooklyn's life and death for His purpose and continues to use her death for His redemption of this broken world.

I also believe in the power of prayer, but I don't believe that God is a puppeteer who has every single detail of our lives planned from our "first cry to final breath." He knows exactly what is going to happen, but I don't believe in a God who plans for tragedy in our lives.  I believe that sin is ever-present in this world, and that because of free will, there are some things that are even out of the Creator's hands. This may be the "wrong" way to view God, but this is where I'm at right now.

I'm thankful for this awareness that has been so very present to me since Brooklyn's loss. I'm thankful for how it has forced me to stop and reflect about who I believe God is. And I am thankful that is has made me more intentional about the things I say to people in relation to God's will for their lives, tragedy, and loss.

Insights, Not Answers.

Today we had our bi-weekly OB appointment where we also received our final autopsy results.

The day after I gave birth to Brooklyn, we had to sign consent to let them know what tests we wanted done on her. The nurses told us that over 50% of the time, there are no answers found with a full-autopsy anyways. This, along with not being able to handle the thought of a stranger cutting open our perfect baby's little body, made us decide to only do a partial autopsy.

They took blood from both Brooklyn and I, examined her body visually and through x-ray, and examined the cord and placenta visually and microscopically.

Here is what they found:

- Small Placenta: Although the size of my placenta looked appropriate when I delivered it, upon further observation they noted that the weight was at less than the 10th percentile for 39 weeks gestation. Small placentas have to work extra hard to supply the baby with oxygen and nutrients, which can cause complications while in labour.

- Meconium Exposure: We already knew this as Brooklyn was covered in meconium (baby's first poop) when she came out. Her skin was stained, and the autopsy showed that the cord and placenta were too. This is often a sign that baby is/was in distress. Knowing that our baby was in distress and we weren't able to do anything about it makes me feel sick. Thinking about her final moments inside of me makes me wish I could have done something.

- Acute Chorionitis of Placental Membranes: This is an inflammation of placental membranes (blockages), which makes it hard for oxygen to flow through. This is often associated with a long labour (which I had).

- Edema of Placental Membranes & Amnion Degeneration: Caused by a baby going into distress and results in reduced or insufficient oxygen.

- Brooklyn's heart, lungs, bone structure, stomach, extremities, etc. all looked perfect. All of her measurements were between the 70th and 90th percentile, except for her cute big feet which were well over the 100th percentile. She was a perfectly healthy and normal baby.

In a nutshell, the OB said that while this provides insight, it doesn't provide complete answers. One thing that she did say, was with the combination of a small placenta and high blood pressure, when I went into labour, it is possible that Brooklyn went into distress due to the placenta not being able to work as hard as it needed to, and her oxygen supply was cut off.

She also said that as far as we know, genetically there was nothing wrong with Brooklyn, which would lead us to believe that genetically, there was nothing wrong with the placenta. She did say that there is always a chance of it happening again (which we already knew). Just because it happened to us once doesn't mean we get a "Pass Go" card this time around. However, it also doesn't mean that it is more likely to happen again. We try to remain hopeful that with close monitoring that the outcome will be different this time around.

We had a perfect baby, with an imperfect placenta that just wasn't able to provide her with what she needed when I went into labour.

For someone who used to be very pro home birth, this has made me completely rethink how I understand monitoring during labour, and the need for hospitals to admit women sooner than the "4cm norm."

From here, the OB said the only thing we are going to do differently is have me take a baby aspirin daily. This will help to increase blood supply to certain organs - including the placenta. The weekly ultrasounds that she has scheduled for me will also be able to measure the function of the placenta and see how much oxygen supply Baby A is getting. And the non-stress tests will make sure her heart rate and movements are appropriate, and there is no indication of reduced movements (which often happens when the placenta begins to fail). Unless ultrasounds show decreased placental function, my induction will take place between February 10th and 17th.

Even with these insights, I do not feel satisfied. It doesn't help me feel more calm or confident about the outcome of this pregnancy. In fact, I find myself angry. How are third trimester ultrasounds STILL not part of the normal prenatal screening? If I had one, they would have been able to see that my placenta was working extra hard to get oxygen to our baby and Brooklyn's life may have been spared. While I continue to be thankful for our medical system, I am also aware of the many holes it has, and how even one ultrasound in the third trimester could drastically reduce the rate of stillbirth in this country.

Reading the autopsy report was really hard for me. After completing a medical placement in the hospital, I understand the need for terminology to be straight to the point and impersonal. But seeing our daughter referred to as "female fetus" and having her death described as "intrauterine fetal demise" are really difficult things to read.

Please pray for us as we digest this new found information. We are feeling emotionally drained after receiving these results. Please pray for our OB, midwives, the ultrasound techs that will be monitoring the placental growth, and the nurses who will be monitoring our non-stress tests. Please pray for Baby A - that she continues to grow strong and healthy. And though it sounds strange, please specifically pray for the placenta - that it continues to grow without error, and is able to supply our baby everything she needs until she is safe in our arms.

Viability

I am officially 24 weeks today. Just 20 weeks ago we found out we were expecting this little baby, and I honestly had many doubts that we would ever make it this far in a pregnancy again. This is what happens when you go through a pregnancy loss - you begin to doubt your body and the possibility of a healthy living baby in the future.

Viability is a very exciting term to me. At 24 weeks, if something were to happen and this baby needed to be born, there is a chance she could survive. That chance is still very small at 24 weeks, but the chance is there. From now on, her chances of surviving outside of my body only increase, and at 28 weeks, most babies born are able to survive with medical assistance. Needless to say, I am very excited to have made it to 24 weeks. 

Of course we know first hand that there is never truly a "safe zone" in pregnancy, but this hope of viability helps to ease just a little bit of my anxiety. 

We met with our OB for the first time last Wednesday. Our appointment was at 12:30pm, but we didn't end up leaving there until 2:15pm. This is because some of our results from the testing we had done on Brooklyn STILL aren't in... The OB wasn't happy about this, and spent a lot of time on the phone with people from McMaster. She came back in the room and said "so I lit a fire under their butts and the results should be in in the next 2-3 days." Realizing how much power and influence our OB has in the medical community really helped to calm my nerves. I knew that she was well known and had heard she is a great OB, but having her advocate for us really helped to solidify this.

We talked about lots of things, including how I was feeling during this pregnancy, what labour and delivery plans will look like, and what extra testing and monitoring we will have done. She even remembered how long my labour was last time, compared to how quickly I delivered Brooklyn. Dr. Lightheart was the OB who had to confirm the news that Brooklyn's heart had stopped. She remembered us and knew our story. And the one of the first things she said to us in our meeting was "I know you won't believe me until you walk out of that hospital with a baby in your arms." I thanked her for saying this. She understands what it is like to walk through a pregnancy after a full-term loss, and she validated the fear and doubt I have. All of these things helped me to feel more at ease. 

We asked her opinion on scheduled C-Section vs. scheduled induction, and she said she would like me to try to be induced. We know my body is able to deliver a baby without complications, and she assured me that baby A and I will be monitored in labour the entire time, from start to finish. She also said that she expects my labour would go much faster this time around. She did say that if my anxiety is too high towards the end we can reconsider a C-Section, but said that the risks to both baby A and I are much higher than vaginal delivery. 

Starting at 28 weeks, I will have weekly ultrasounds to make sure baby A is still growing well, her amniotic fluid levels are appropriate, that she is getting enough oxygen, and that the placenta and cord are still doing their jobs and not causing complications. I will also have weekly non-stress tests where her movements and heart rate are monitored for an extended period of time. These tests will be scattered throughout the week so that there are many eyes on her every couple of days.

Dr. Lightheart also told me that if I'm ever nervous about baby A's movements or anything else happening, to just go straight to labour and delivery at the hospital for an assessment. She said to tell the hospital that I am her patient, and that we lost our first baby and they will take good care of us. She made me feel like it's okay to be extra cautious and even if it means I'm in the hospital a lot, that's okay.

Needless to say, we are feeling really good about our decision for shared-care with midwives and an OB. I can honestly say that Dr. Lightheart is going to take really good care of us and keep a very watchful eye on baby A.

I am missing Brooklyn a lot these days. I often think about what life would be like if we had a little 7 month old here with us. Would she be crawling around by now? What would her favourite mashed up foods be? What would she look like? Would she have my blue eyes or Derek's hazel eyes? Would she be sleeping through the night? All of these things are answers we will never have.

I often wonder what it will be like to parent a living child if everything continues to go well with baby A. I feel like I have gotten so used to parenting a child who has died, that this new experience will be emotionally overwhelming for me.

I have also experienced a lot of motherly guilt lately. I wonder how my heart will ever have enough love for these two precious girls. I wonder if it will be easier for me to love baby A if she is alive and well, and if my love for Brooklyn will change. I know many mother's experience the "will I have enough love, time, energy for these two little ones" thoughts, but when your only experience of parenting is when your child has died, it makes these thoughts and feelings very challenging.

I am struggling to plan for this baby's nursery, as I can't bring myself to paint and change Brooklyn's colours yet. The nursery still feels very much like Brookyln's, and without the guarantee of baby A coming home with us, it is hard for me to plan for her arrival. I am thankful for a close friend who often sends me ideas for colours and bedding. She helps me to have hope, and encourages me in loving ways  (and probably without realizing it) to prepare both physically and emotionally for baby A to come home.

With only a two month break between pregnancies, I often feel like this is one big long pregnancy and we have been waiting forever for a baby to be in our arms. However, even with all of the stress that accompanies this pregnancy, I thank God often for this blessing. I know that pregnancy is not something to be taken lightly, and something many people wish they could experience. We are thankful beyond all measure to have gotten pregnant quickly with both of our girls. While we wish Brooklyn was here with us, we are constantly reminded to just be grateful for the experiences we had with her while I was pregnant, and the experiences we are having with her little sister. Still, we try to remain hopeful for baby A's life, and to be able to experience a living child. 

Paralyzing Fear

This week has been challenging, to say the least.

We had our follow up ultrasound on Monday. We got in right at 4pm, but this time the technician was terrible. As soon as I got in the room, the technician said she needed to find some images that the last tech wasn't able to get. But instead of knowing beforehand what images she needed, she decided to ask me... She said she had a few of them written down but wasn't sure of the rest. I had to tell her the ones I knew about and then she had to leave the room (for what felt like hours) to go search for my anatomy scan results. She found what she needed, told me the cord is a 3 vessel cord (they were worried it may be 2 vessel, which has the potential to cause issues), printed off a picture and told me the results would be at the midwives' office in a few days. She didn't even ask if Derek was in the waiting room to come see his daughter. Nor did she show me the baby on the screen. I could only see her because I was watching the screen the entire time. It was a really disappointing appointment. Needless to say, for future ultrasounds I will be requesting a different tech if she is the one to come get me in the future.

Of course afterwards, all I could think about was what was wrong. I kept thinking that maybe she saw something and that is why she was terrible. I called the midwives' office today to have them read the results over the phone, and am just waiting for their return call. Anxiously waiting, I should say...

I was feeling a little bit better by Tuesday morning. I started to think that maybe she was just a really terrible ultrasound tech and there probably isn't anything wrong. I also realized that if anything was severely wrong with the baby, they would have got an OB in right there to tell us and wouldn't have let us leave the hospital. This was a little bit reassuring to me.

I worked 2-10pm on Tuesday, and it was fairly steady. I wasn't paying much attention to her movements like I normally do. I have been able to feel her move for almost 10 weeks now, and by this point she is moving regularly. When I got home at 10:30pm, I got changed and sat on the couch with Derek. Usually when I sit down and start to relax I can feel her move like crazy, but Tuesday night was different. I couldn't feel her at all. I gently pressed on my belly to see if she would start moving around - and she didn't. I laid down on my side and still nothing. At this point I was getting pretty worried. I told Derek I was having a hard time feeling her move. I drank some chocolate milk to try to get her moving around with all of that sugar. Still nothing.

I could literally feel my body going into panic mode. I felt paralyzed. Derek asked if we should go to the hospital. But before 24 weeks, there isn't much they can do if the baby isn't moving. Also, at this point, a Non-Stress Test won't give an accurate reading of the baby. We decided we should wait it out. We both sat in silence for an hour on the couch together. Hoping and praying that she would move. And she still didn't.

Eventually I decided I was going to head up to bed. I thought that maybe getting ready for bed and the sound of running water would wake her up (she always moves lots when I'm doing the dishes, in the shower, or washing my face before bed). Still nothing. Derek came to bed around 1am. By this point it had been 2.5 hours since I was trying to feel her. In my head, I had already assumed the worst. But still I kept waiting for her to move, even a little bit.

We turned out the lights and decided to try and fall asleep. Five minutes later, she moved! We were so relieved! The little bum must have been sleeping and decided to take an extra long nap.

At 22 weeks, most moms wouldn't think twice about not feeling the baby for a little while. But when you've lived through the worst, being aware of movement becomes an obsession. An obsession that is based on very real fear, and knowing firsthand that when a baby's movements decrease, this can indicate a major problem.

While I was so relieved to feel her moving, I was also angry. Not angry at her, but angry that this fear we feel is so very real. Angry that for the next 16 weeks, we are going to walk in the fear of "will our baby live, or won't she?" Angry that even if she gets here safe, sound, and breathing, we are going to be fearful of her losing her life to SIDS.

While I wish I could say "fear will not win," part of me feels like it already is. I love this little girl more and more every day, and as I become more hopeful for her life, the fear increases. Most moms are worried in the first trimester, and then this decreases as time goes on and the viability of the baby's life increases. This is the opposite for us. As time goes on, I become more fearful that this sweet baby girl won't be coming home with us.

These days the fear is just as strong as the hope.

The Only Guarantee

Another holiday passed, and I'm still standing. I was especially missing Brooklyn this Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is my favourite time of year and this time last year I had pictured our life to be very different. It really wasn't the same without her. I was however thankful to celebrate a holiday with the hope of new life, even if this hope is very much guarded at times.

I have found that my grief has yet again changed at the 6 month mark. Every time I feel like I have a handle on this grieving thing, things change and I am forced to confront new feelings and experiences. While I'm thankful that grief forces me to continually grow, I wish personal growth in these areas of my life could happen without having to lose Brooklyn. Lately I have been experiencing a lot of deep sadness. Being pregnant doesn't help this, as I am much more emotional during this pregnancy than I was my last. I cry at anything and everything and feel things much deeper than normal. 

After getting past lots of pride, stubbornness, and a very independent personality, I have started seeing a counsellor. I have met with this person in the past for other issues I've had, so I find it helpful that we already have rapport built. She is able to connect my feelings to knowledge of who I am, where I come from, and the experiences that tie these things together. So far I have found meeting with her really helpful. I know how important it is to ensure I am in good mental health for myself, Derek, and this growing baby of ours. As I get further along in this pregnancy, and the idea of actually getting to bring this baby home becomes more real, I want to make sure I am emotionally prepared for all of the different feelings that may come as a result. It's also been helpful to work through past issues that have arisen as a result of this traumatic loss. 

I am so thankful to our Brooklyn for the perspective her short little life has given me. I have learned that life really is such a precious gift. Not something to be taken lightly. I no longer assume things like Derek and I will live to be 90 and grow old together, or that the rest of our children will outlive us both. While I hope and pray that these desires of my heart come true, I know that my life and the life of those around me can end at any given moment. The events in Ottawa this week and the loss of Cpl. Nathan Cirillo has yet again reinforced this for me. I feel like I have been grieving even deeper since Wednesday. I have thought of Nathan's mother often, and been trying to imagine everything she must be feeling right now. My heart has been so heavy for his family. 

This new perspective doesn't mean that I now live my life thinking "glass half empty" all the time, but I try not to take things for granted. I make sure I tell Derek I love him before bed every night and before we both leave for work, even if I'm feeling that I don't particularly "like" him in that moment. This new understanding of life has also greatly affected my pregnancy this time around. I try to embrace every moment - even if my back hurts, my feet are already swollen, and I'm feeling huge. I remember to enjoy every kick I am feeling because I know all too well that it could be the last time I feel this baby move. 

A website I follow (stillstandingmag.com) highlighted an article a while ago that has really helped me during this pregnancy. The writer Angela Miller is writing to women who are pregnant again after the loss of a child. Part of it says "How I wish I could tell you - you are guaranteed this. You should be - but you and I both know there are no guarantees. There is only now." 

She is absolutely right. There is only now. I am so thankful for each morning I wake up and the baby is still moving. My midwife reminded me again this week, that the chance of losing this baby is extremely low. This helps, but oh how I wish we were guaranteed to bring home a healthy baby girl at the end of these long 38 weeks. 

Instead, I will continue to make every moment with this girl count. I will keep learning things about her, like how she moves around any time she is near the sound of running water - just like her sister did. And I will continue to enjoy calling her by name. Yes - Derek and I are almost 100% set on a name for this lady now. It helps me feel more connected to her, and makes my hope for her life even stronger. I will keep reading to her and talking to her - helping her know how very loved she already is.

We received the official ultrasound results late last week and everything looks great. The actual report says "no abnormalities found." We also learned that our sweet baby has long legs like her Daddy! The midwife said her femur bone measures larger than average. We do have to go back for a follow up ultrasound this Monday though. Because of her position, the tech had a hard time getting a few of the images he needed. My midwife assured me that there is absolutely nothing to worry about and this happens all the time. I am feeling a little bit nervous but nothing compared to how I was feeling last time. If you are reading this and remember to think of us on Monday at 4pm, we would really appreciate your thoughts and prayers. I'm really excited to get another look of this little lady too! Oh and they moved our due date up from March 5th to March 3rd! This means she will come even earlier in February now. It is funny how two days makes such a difference.

"The time is now sweet mama. It's the only guarantee. The secret is to simply be. Right here, right now - with your baby." This has been my anthem lately.

The time is now. It's the only guarantee. 

The link to Angela Miller's article is here: http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/03/dear-sweet-mama-courage-roars/ 

"Our Girls"

Yesterday we found out that we are having another precious baby girl. The day was full of so many different emotions, and by the time the ultrasound was finally over, I was completely exhausted.

We arrived at McMaster around 2:15pm - 15 minutes before my appointment. They didn't call my name until 3pm. I sat there anxiously waiting as person after person was called before me. When the tech finally came out, my heart sank as I walked down the hall to the scan room by myself, while Derek and our moms had to stay in the waiting room. I knew there was one male tech in McMaster visual diagnostics, and I had hopped that I didn't end up with him. I guess in my head I had already assumed he would not be comforting and would increase my anxiety. The room reminded me too much of the room we were in when we found out Brooklyn's heart had stopped. As I laid back on the bed, I felt my whole body tense up and my heart started to race really fast.

The tech asked me a few questions including my birthdate, the baby's due date, and how to spell my last name. I told him in the beginning that we wanted to find out the baby's sex. He smiled, poured the freezing cold gel on my belly and started the scan. About 15 minutes into the scan, the tech stopped and turned the screen toward me. For that split second, my heart dropped and I assumed that there was something wrong. Instead, he was showing me that our little baby was yawning. "Baby is getting bored of us" he said with a smile on his face. My heart rate slowed a little bit as I now knew that baby was still alive and moving around. But my body remained tense.

At one point in the scan, the tech asked me if I was okay. "Just really nervous" I replied. "Don't be nervous, everything looks great. Your baby is just moving around a lot. It's good to have a baby who moves lots, but it just makes my job a bit more difficult" he said. I felt my body become a little bit less tense. This man that I assumed would not be comforting was providing me with comfort and telling me that everything looks great, when he in fact is not really supposed to be telling me anything at all. "This isn't our first" I said. "We lost our first daughter. She was stillborn." He didn't know what to say, so he just gave me a heart felt "oh no." Normally I would have been mad that someone couldn't provide a more compassionate response but he had built rapport with me and already done a lot to ease some of my anxiety.

However, I was still really frustrated. Why was it not included in my file that our first and only child was born still? Should this not be a very important piece of my medical history now? I love living in Canada and am incredibly thankful for our healthcare system (especially for Hamilton Health Sciences), but sometimes the process and lack of communication between medical professionals really makes me angry.

About 50 minutes in he asked me to turn on my right side so he could get a better view of something. Then he asked me to turn to my back again and said "you want to find out the gender, right?" I said yes, not assuming he would tell me right then and there. He turned the screen toward me, and all I saw were two little chicken legs. "I can't tell I said". Then he typed out "XX" and said, "see these three lines here, that means you are having a girl." I immediately started to cry. I wasn't prepared to find out by myself but I was so happy to find out SHE is a girl. I continued to cry for a while as I thought about having the opportunity to be a mommy to another girl. The tension in my body completely released and I felt a sense of peace and huge relief.

I was convinced this baby was a boy. My pregnancy has been so different than it was with Brooklyn. But I also think I convinced myself it was a boy so that if it in fact was, my heart wouldn't be completely devestated. Of course all we want this time around is a healthy, living, breathing baby, but I have always wanted a little girl. When we lost Brooklyn, I wondered if I would ever have this opportunity again in my life. I convinced myself that she was our only shot, and we would only have boys from now on.

Just over an hour after the scan started, he said "okay, we're all done." He printed off a picture and asked if I had anyone in the waiting room. I said yes and he said he needed to go to his computer and make sure he had all the images he needed. He told me to go empty my bladder and get Derek and our moms and bring them back to the scan room.

I walked out the doors to the waiting room and I could tell that they were concerned I was the one coming to get them. I'm sure they felt relieved when I had a huge smile on my face. I told them they could come back now. As we walked down the hallway, I said "he already told me the sex." We got in the room and I said "at first I couldn't tell, but he pointed it out and it was really obvious." "It's a boy then" they all said. With a big smile on my face I said "it's actually a girl." They were all so excited! And we waited for the tech to come back in to show us our little girl. She looked so perfect. We watched her move around for a bit and he showed us her different body parts, and then showed Derek and our moms that she is a girl.

By the time we were leaving the hospital, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. My body felt weak and sore from being so tense, but I was so excited to know that this little baby growing inside of me is a little sister. Our moms and Derek all asked how I felt about the news, and all I kept saying was "relieved." The stress and tension I had carried around for the past few months felt like it was all lifted off of my shoulders.

We are now one step closer to having a healthy baby in our arms. However, while last time at this point we felt relieved to know that we were officially in the "safe zone," this time we realize that there is never truly a safe zone until there is a healthy baby here.

Last night was the first time in months that I slept through the night. I didn't even wake up to go to the bathroom. I think it was a combination of being so completely exhausted from the day, and being relieved the scan is over.

We feel so blessed to be able to say things like "our girls." Being in the nursery I feel a huge sense of peace wash over me, as I know that we will be able to use some of the outfits, blankets, and toys that we had once hoped to use for Brooklyn. There are definitely some things that I won't be able to use for this baby girl because emotionally it will be too difficult. But once again my heart is full of joy.

This little girl will be her own little person, never replacing Brooklyn, never having to walk in her big sister's shadow. I wonder if she will look like Brooklyn. Will she have her curly brown hair or her cute little nose? I do know that she will always know she has a big sister who is always loved and forever missed. This little one will always be our second - no less important than our first.

I mourn the fact that these sisters will never get to do sister things together. They will never get to talk about boys together, steal each other's clothes, or paint each other's nails. I'm sad to know that Brooklyn will never have the chance to be the older wiser sister to this little one. As a big sister myself, I was excited for a firstborn girl and it makes me sad that Brooklyn can't do the things I have done for my little sister. While our family unit won't be "typical," it will be our own, and both of our girls will forever know how incredibly special and important they each are.

We are so very thankful for all the prayers and positive thoughts. I know they helped us get through yesterday.

 Today I am 19 weeks and officially half way through this pregnancy, a place I wasn't sure I would ever make it to again. We're so excited to dream new dreams for this baby girl. To prepare for her just as we did with her sister, and to meet her in 19 more weeks.

"All of My Life, In Every Season, You are still God"

"This is my prayer in the desert, when all that's within me feels dry. This is my prayer and my hunger and need, my God is the God who provides. This is my prayer in the fire, in weakness or trial or pain. There is a faith proved of more worth than gold, so refine me Lord through the flame."

The above lyrics are taken from a song called "Desert Song" by Hillsong United. It was written by Brooke Fraser (one of the reasons we chose Brooklyn's name).

It has almost been 6 months since we had our girl - half a year. When we first lost her, I didn't know what the next hour would hold, let alone what life would look like 6 months after losing her. The death of our child truly has been my desert. I have had some of the hardest days of my life - days I really wasn't sure I had the energy to make it through.

Many days I have questioned the presence of God. I've had people tell me they have no idea how I could continue to believe in a God who would allow our girl to die. And to be honest, I have really had to take a good long look at my faith and if I truly believe the things I say I do.

I know this is something I will probably wrestle with my whole entire life, but in this desert season, I have learned that God is more present than I give him credit for. God has orchestrated so many different people, conversations, and events in the last 6 months alone, that have shown me even in times of "weakness, trial, or pain," He is the only constant, and he is trying to redeem this really terrible thing that has happened.

God's presence and unfailing love has never been so evident to me. I think I have seen this most in the relationships that have been restored and healed since losing Brooklyn. Many people have extended forgiveness and grace to me when I'm not sure I deserved it. This is exactly what God does - he provides us with things we are not worthy of and asks for nothing in return. And I am so thankful for the people in my life who are actively living out the gospel, probably without realizing it.

Someone asked me the other day what stage of grief I feel like I'm in right now. After thinking about it for a little bit, I decided I'm in the acceptance stage. The loss of Brooklyn will never fully be right with my soul, but right now, I'm in a place where I know that being bitter, angry, and deeply sad will not bring her back. I still miss her every single day, but I know that she would want me to live life to the fullest. Her very short little life has taught me to be thankful for every day here on this earth. Wasting my time being constantly bitter, envious and sad is such a waste of such a precious life.

I really do feel healing taking place in my life in general, my relationship with Derek, and my relationship with others. And while this pregnancy has been really scary, I know that God is using this precious baby to provide healing to us too.

Next Wednesday we have the anatomy scan where we will find out the sex of this baby. I have a really strong feeling that it is a boy, but only time will tell! As time gets closer, I am more anxious about this scan. Please pray that the scan reveals this little one is growing strong and healthy, and that there are no major concerns with his/her development. And please remember to send us good vibes on Wednesday. Ultrasounds are not as fun for us as they were the first time around. Now they come with a lot of anxiety - especially because Derek is still not allowed in the room with me and the anatomy scan takes quite a long time. I'm sure the hour will feel like days to both of us as the ultrasound tech thoroughly looks over this baby.

"This is my prayer in the harvest, where favour and providence flow. I know I'm filled to be emptied again. This seed I've received I must sow."

I know that God provides restoration and healing to our lives so that we can be a blessing to others. I also know that tomorrow I could have a really crappy day where I am back in the "anger" stage of this grieving process. So I will continue to embrace these moments, and try to the best of my ability to live my life knowing that God is always looking for ways to redeem this very broken world, and that he very much wants me to be a part of it.

The Tension and The Terror

This pregnancy has been no walk in the park. When I think back to being 16 weeks along with Brooklyn, I remember the sense of peace I had as I was well past the eagerly awaited 12 week mark. With this pregnancy, the more time that passes, the more anxious I become.

Losing a child at any stage or age is completely devastating, but losing our firstborn has come with some unique challenges. Here has been my experience with pregnancy so far - one pregnancy, one death. We still do not have the cause of death for our Brooklyn so my mind likes to do this thing called self-blame. I am constantly thinking things like "was it the nausea medication that caused her heart to be weak?" "Was it the decaf coffee I drank in the end of my pregnancy?" "Did I bounce too hard on my exercise ball when I was trying to prepare my body for childbirth?" I still am not convinced that my body is able to get to a point where it can provide us with a living baby.

While I am completely terrified of losing this child, we are thankful for the moments of hope we have. I cried the first time we saw the baby on the ultrasound and we were able to confirm a heartbeat. And I cried the first time I heard the baby's heart beat loud and strong. With Brooklyn I was excited for these things but they seem to hold new weight now. I have even thought about (yet not brave enough to do yet...) buying a few new baby clothes and other items the past couple of weeks. Something that seems so reckless when there is no guarantee of a living baby in the end of this journey. This is the unique tension of pregnancy after the loss of your firstborn.

I've been going through more of Brooke's stuff and trying to decide what we will keep and what we will let go of and buy different for this baby. This has not been an easy task. I've been trying to sell our stroller for a while now. We weren't 100% convinced when we bought the stroller for Brooklyn, and now that we are hopeful for this winter baby, it's not the most suitable for that kind of terrain. This has been one of the hardest things to do. I've had many people in weeks past offer us the full asking price, and then I come up with an excuse as to why I want to keep it or chicken out and cancel on the person. Tomorrow we have someone who is seriously interested coming to check it out and I know it will be hard. Hard to let go of something that is Brooklyn's - something that she was never able to use but was still hers all the same. It is these unique challenges that makes this pregnancy so hard.

If baby is cooperative, we will find out October 8th if this is another little lady or a boy and as the time gets closer I become more nervous - not jut about the baby's gender but about the anatomy scan in general. This scan is the one where if anything is seriously wrong, they normally find it. Since becoming part of the baby loss community, I know all too well just how many different things can go wrong. People tell me not to focus on the "small chance" of those complications happening, but when you've been one of those statistics already, it is hard to not want to be prepared for every possible outcome. Like I said - one baby, one death. This is all I know this far.

We have approximately 22 weeks left of this very long journey. Please continue to pray for us in the weeks and months to come.

Our Rainbow of Hope

It is with very hopeful hearts that we announce we are pregnant with baby #2 - a rainbow baby. Another couple who lost their daughter and announced their rainbow baby explained it like this:

"In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated having just experienced the storm in comparison.

The storm (loss) has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm clouds might still be overhead as the family continue to cope with the loss, but something colourful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery."

I am 14.5 weeks pregnant, and officially in the second trimester. Baby is due March 5th, 2015 - exactly 11 months after Brooklyn was born. I have always wanted our kids to be close together, but never imagined 11 months apart. The baby will be a February baby as I will either be induced or have a scheduled C-section around 38 weeks.

Some of you may remember how sick I was in my pregnancy with Brooklyn. It was non-stop "morning" sickness and eventually I was put on medication because I couldn't hold anything down, and was struggling to function day to day. This time, the sickness was just as bad, but thankfully, I had relief at times. It was not as constant this time around. I decided (for many reasons) not to go on the medication again no matter how bad my morning sickness got. While it was really hard some days, I am very happy with my choice. Now that I'm into the second trimester, I'm no longer sick! This is great news because with Brooklyn I was still nauseous and vomiting until around 32 weeks.

After the morning sickness stopped, the headaches began. This is a new symptom as I never had headaches with Brooklyn. But I'm trying not to complain too much because I'll take a headache over morning sickness any day...

We will be finding out this baby's sex in the next 4-6 weeks. I've already had people ask which sex we would "prefer" the baby to be. In some ways, I feel like having a boy would be easier. New hopes and dreams, and a new experience altogether. But if I'm being truly honest, my heart has always longed for a daughter. I have never meant it more when I say that in the end of this pregnancy, no matter girl or boy, all we want is a healthy, living, breathing baby. One that we can raise and parent.

This is definitely not how I imagined my second pregnancy to be. I had pictured our little Brooklyn in my bump update pictures, and imagined putting a "Big Sister" shirt on her to announce our second little miracle.

I am missing her a lot this pregnancy. A space that was once only ever shared by her and I is now being taken over by another little baby. While I love this baby so much already, part of me is feeling guilty.  I've just started to feel little baby flutters and am looking forward to the big strong kicks. I know that these kicks will both be reassuring and hard at times, as I know it will bring back lots of memories of carrying Brooklyn.

We are very excited for this little one, but this pregnancy will be much different than our last. We are still celebrating the joyful moments and able to enjoy this time. But this pregnancy also comes with a lot of fear. Fear that the same thing will happen again. I have been reassured by my doctor and midwife that our chances of losing this baby are no higher this time around than they were the last. This both makes me feel better, and makes me nervous because 1 in 160 is still a scary number. And we are being followed much closer this time around. Around 35 weeks I will have weekly ultrasounds to ensure my fluid is a good level, the baby is getting enough oxygen, and my placenta is still working. I'm looking forward to be followed by both an OB and midwife this time, as we will have the best of both worlds.

One of my fears about telling people we are pregnant again, was that people would assume we are okay now. We are still grieving, and still missing our baby girl. And this baby will in no way replace Brooklyn or any of the things we are missing out on with her.

Please pray for us during this pregnancy. For this baby to continue growing healthy and strong. For our fears to be as little as possible so we can continue to be excited about this little miracle. For wisdom and discernment for the OB and midwives taking care of us. And that in the end of this pregnancy, we will have a living breathing miracle in our arms. While most couples are expecting, we are just hoping - hoping and praying that things are different this time around.

5x5

Today marks 5 months since our sweet girl was born. Every month the 4th and 5th are really hard days for me emotionally, but this month seems to be even harder. I woke up this morning with a bad migraine so that likely didn't help.

I'm finding that as time goes on, I mourn the loss of Brooklyn deeper and more intensely. Some days have gotten easier, but some are much harder than even the days following her birth.

I've decided to finally put together a baby book for her. A place where all of our memories and photos of her can be safely kept. One thing I've been struggling with, is the fact that we do not have a birth certificate to add to the book. Even though I was in labour when we lost her, because she was not a "live birth", the government refuses to recognize her personhood. Because of this, we don't have a death certificate either. In the eyes of the government, we are simply a number that will be entered in the Census - one of the 1 in 160 who lose their child to stillbirth. While I understand the reasoning for no official birth certificate, it still hurts. It hurts that our daughter is not recognized. To us, she is a very real person who was in fact born. I went through labour and delivered her just like another other mother does. And yet she is not recognized.

The Monday after we lost her, we went back to the hospital to meet with the Labour and Delivery social worker. I cannot say enough nice things about her. As a social worker, I have pretty high expectations when it comes to someone being in a very influential role like that. She was just amazing, completely validated our feelings, told us what to expect in the months and years to come, and even helped us with funeral arrangements. One of the things she said was that as time goes on, grief may become more raw for us. She explained how most couples tell her that the people around them expect for them to be back to the way they once were. She was very honest in saying that we simply would never be the same.

I'm not sure I fully believed her at the time, but it has become more clear that a lot of people think that 5 months is a long time - long enough to be "done" with grieving. I've said this before and I'm sure I will say it again - we will never be done grieving the loss of our daughter. I have had to learn to adjust my expectations of people around me, and have learned to try to not take things personally. I understand how hard it must be for people around us to know that we will just never be the same again. To know that in a situation like this, there are no solutions or ways to "fix" it.

We live in a society that is full of solution-based ways of thinking. Lately I'm learning to be okay with however I am feeling - whether that be sad, angry, envious, happy. We do not need to shut down our feelings and try to make everything better. That is how we become sad bitter people in the end who never truly deal with the crap this world throws our way.

I still have yet to go a full day without thinking about Brooklyn often. But I've had more mornings where she isn't the first thing I think of when I wake up.

Smelling her blanket still brings me comfort, and I'm thankful her scent has not yet faded. I have recently experienced a lot of motherly guilt as I have not been able to visit her as often because of my crazy work schedule. I try to be gentle with myself, knowing that it just isn't right to have to "visit" my 5 month old in a cemetery anyway.

We recently received an email from the monument and marker place with a draft of what hers will look like, and I'm really looking forward to it finally going up. Something no parent should have to look forward to. I'm just ready for her place to look complete. For people to know that it is our daughter who is buried there.

Life for Derek, Samson and I has been a little bit crazy lately and is about to get a lot busier with Derek starting up junior and senior high youth groups during the week again. Please continue to pray for us and this new season as summer turns into fall - a season that was once my favourite. Now I am stuck between looking forward to the newness fall brings, and mourning more "firsts" that we will miss out on. Thanksgiving and Halloween are just around the corner and are two more first holidays where our family will feel one person short.

Three Years

It has been three years today since we signed on the dotted line and officially became home owners.

Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that we took that risk. We purchased a house that needed a lot of love in order to become a home. And since then, have spent money, time, and energy to make it our own. It really did need a lot of love...

However, it also feels like we have lived a lot of life in just three short years.

When we lost Brooklyn, the thought of living here without her made me sick to my stomach. At one point Derek and I had a conversation about if it would just be best to start looking for a new house. The memories were painful, and living here without her just felt wrong.

After a while of casually looking online, and thinking about what we really wanted, we decided it would be best to stay here longer. There are still some things we want to do to the house (mainly finish the kitchen), and we decided that it would be nice if we could have a baby in this home again one day.

Almost 5 months have passed since we walked in our very silent house without our little girl. I can honestly say that I'm so glad we decided to stay. This house has been full of some very painful moments, but I can't imagine being anywhere else right now. We are so lucky to live somewhere that is full of memories of being pregnant with Brooklyn, and lots of firsts for Derek, Samson, and I.

We love our home and all of the memories, good and bad that it comes with. Our home tells a story - our story.

I can't wait to see what this house has in store for us in the next three years. And I look forward to making many more memories here before we outgrow our two bedroom, 1.5 story home.

Thank You

Over the past 4.5 months, our dining room table has been covered with flowers and cards from friends, family, and even people we have never met before. I recently took down the last of the cards and cleared off our table. I stuck all the cards in a pile, and became overwhelmed as I thought about just how many thank you cards I have to write.

I then realized that there are so many people who have helped us, and continue to help us through this time, that I would definitely miss people. I also feel that there is not enough space on little thank you cards to express how truly grateful we are.

We want to publicly thank everyone.

• The people who have cried with and for us
• The ones who have prayed for us.
•  Sent us cards, flowers, gift cards, etc. On days when we just don't have the energy to cook, we continue to use gift cards. 
• Every who made meals for us.
• Those who have stopped by to clean our house when we simply didn't have the energy.
• The ones who continue to call and text unexpectedly to say they are thinking of and praying for us.
• Everyone who continues to remember Brooklyn or send me pictures of things that remind them of her.
•  People who aren't afraid to say her name or ask us about her.
•  Everyone who came to her burial and/or memorial and helped to show us just how big of an impact her short little life had.
• Those who have shared their own grief journeys with us, helping us to know we are not alone. 
• My father-in-law who sent us on the trip of a lifetime, which provided us with so much healing and rejuvenation for our marriage. 
• Our immediate families who have walked with us every step of the way
• Our close friends who spent countless late nights at our place when we just weren't ready to be alone in our house yet.
• Everyone who donated to the McMaster NICU in memory of Brooklyn. It's nice to know lots of babies and families will be helped in her memory.
•  My mum, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law who were present during Brooklyn's birth. It was so special to have them be a part of that experience. 
• The people who have supported us through some tough decisions we have made in the last 4 months. 
•  Everyone who goes to visit Brooklyn in her special place. Seeing the flowers and stuffed animals left there makes it just a bit easier to visit our daughter in a cemetery. 
• The people who came to visit us in the hospital and held our baby girl. Knowing others have memories of her too means everything to us. 
• The anonymous group of people who raised funds to completely cover the expenses of her burial and memorial cost. We are forever grateful that money was not a concern or added stress during that time. 
• My midwife Elise who continues to keep in touch and provide us with support. 
• Our church family who continues to be nothing but supportive. I honestly don't know how people go through tragedy like this without having faith.
• Close friends who have bought us and painted pictures, given us books, and bought me jewlery. It is so nice to have visual reminders of our sweet girl all around our house.
• The hospital staff at McMaster Children's Hospital - Lesley, Cindy, and Dr. Mary Coll-Black. I honestly cannot say enough nice things about the nurses and OB's I had. They helped to make a really terrible time better, helped provide dignity to our daughter, and helped to make us feel empowered in the many hard decisions we had to make. These women were a great example of what all health care practicioners should be like. 
• The people who have made hard times like Easter, Mother's Day, Father's Day, just a little bit easier.

I know that we are probably forgetting countless people. But please know that we are truly grateful for every single card we received, and every single person who has helped us get to where we are today. We continue to feel so overwhelmed by the support and love that people have shown us in our darkest time. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you - from the bottom of our hearts. 

All our love,

Derek, Fiona, Brooklyn, and Samson.

Permission to Dream Again

If I had to describe my grief journey these days, I simply would say that I am tired.

No one tells you how exhausting it is to grieve. I come home from work most days and literally don't have the energy to do anything. I feel like my schedule consists of working, coming home, sleeping, showering, eating, and repeat. But I have to remind myself that this is just a season.

I have been working a lot lately too, so that doesn't help. I'm really enjoying my new role as shift supervisor. It's a nice change from the same job I have been doing since 2009 (with a short 10 month break). And the little bit of extra income isn't bad either.

Something I'm really excited about is I'm transferring to a different store! Starting September 2nd, I'll be moving to the Burlington Indigo location. This store will be a nice change of pace with no drive thru, and a totally different atmosphere. Their hours are much better (bank hours), and they are off all stat holidays! The manager is one who used to run the Waterdown store too, and I'm very much looking forward to working with her again. AND I'll be working in a book store - how great is that?!

I'm hoping the new hours will help provide some consistency to my schedule and make sleeping a little bit easier.

Life is starting to feel a bit more "normal" these days. I feel like Derek and I are in a new sort of routine. While losing Brooklyn will never ever feel right or be well with my soul, it feels nice to settle back into life, even for a short while.

That being said, there are still some moments that I almost forget she is gone from this world forever. I notice it most when I'm in her nursery. Sometimes it feels just like it did when I was pregnant and used to sit in her room - dreaming of who she would be and what she would look like. For a brief moment, it feels as if we are still waiting for her to arrive. And then I realize that she already has arrived, and just as quickly has left.

One thing I've been allowing myself to do lately, is to dream of better days. It's taken me over 4 months to get here, and I know I will always be a little bit guarded with my hopes for the future, but it feels nice to dream again. I really truly believe that there are better days before us, but am also thankful for the great moments we have behind us, and for everything we have learned along the way.

The wisdom we have gained will never justify Brooklyn's death. I would much rather be naive and ignorant if it meant we could have our 4 month old here with us. But since this is not an option, I choose to see the goodness and wisdom that has come as a result.

Please continue to pray for us and keep us in your thoughts.

Safe

I've had a lot of chaos in my life, and as a result - I have forever craved safety and security. This shows up in many aspects in my life. Finances, relationships, making plans for the future, and even the route of education I took.

I have never truly felt safe and secure, but always felt that there were certain things in my control to prevent bad things from happening to me. This can make me an uptight control freak at times.

Since losing Brooklyn, I have begun to learn a very hard reality for someone who likes things to be neat, controlled, and in order - there are very few things in this life that are actually in our control. Bad things happen to good people, whether or not they try their best to do the right thing. This has completely changed how I look at everything in my life.

I recently read the final blog entry of a mom who also lost her baby girl. Her story is different than ours but still very much resonates with me.

In her final entry, she talked about the missing boy in Calgary and how it has impacted her. She went on to say that her daughter is her only child whose safety she will never need to worry about. Her only child who she will not lose sleep over questioning how to best care for her or wondering if she is in pain.

This hit me like a ton of bricks. I will never have to worry about Brooklyn's safety and security. I will never be up late in the night second guessing all of my parenting decisions with her. I will never worry about her making it through those dreaded teen years. She has never been hungry, cold, sad - never had her heart broken. Our Brooke is forever safe and always secure in the arms of Jesus.

Don't get me wrong - this doesn't make her death feel justified in any way. Our first born dying will never feel "right", because it simply isn't.

This world is full of terrible things, but at times, it is also full of wonderful things that give us small glimpses into Heaven. I have come to the realization that I will never feel fully safe and secure here on this earth. If we are blessed to parent living children, I will worry about their safety, their life, and how to best parent them. I will likely always try to hold my money a little tightly, and try to the best of my ability to control situations around me. But we are meant for so much more than this. If we never take risks and live fearfully our whole lives, we will never get to experience those small glimpses of Heaven.

I can rest assured that Brooklyn now has what I have craved my whole entire life - to forever feel safe and secure.

106

It has been 106 days since I last held our daughter in my arms. 108 days since we started grieving her loss.

The journey has felt long. I feel weathered and tarnished. I have learned a lot. More than I would have liked to learn by the time I turned 23.

I went in Brooklyn's nursery for the first time today. I just got an overwhelming feeling that it was finally time to confront all of the baby things that we are not getting to use. The room was jam packed with everything we have of hers - clothes, books, photos, diapers, bathtub, stroller, car seat, swing, bouncy chair, crib, toys, soothers - everything.

The last time I was in there, was during the day I went into labour. That day, I sat in the rocking chair, holding my belly and praying for the safe arrival of our baby. Praying that she would be healthy and that we would be good enough parents for her.

Today, I sat on the floor sobbing for the loss of our daughter - the loss of all of the memories we would never get to make with her. We will never get to bathe her, to rock with her in the rocking chair, to use her change table or go on family walks with her in her carrier. We will never be able to read her story books, to put headbands in her curly hair, or watch her exploring her world on her play mat.

In my heart, I know that what Brooke is experiencing in Heaven is so much more than anything we could offer her on this earth. But this doesn't take away the ache or pain I feel over the loss of everything we had pictured getting to experience with her.

As I unpacked her diaper bag - full of the things we had expected to use at the hospital, I began to mourn in a new way. Until now, I have been mourning without having to be confronted with all of her things. I checked all the dates on the wipes and diaper creams to see what we should donate or what could potentially stay long enough if we are lucky enough to parent another baby. I wondered if we will ever get to use her baby girl clothes and headbands sometime down the road, or if that was our only shot at parenting a daughter. Even if we have a girl one day, will we even want her to wear the things we had specifically bought for our Brooke?

Despite all the hurt and aching my heart has done, it is still so full of love for our baby girl. Being in that nursery, gave me a sense of renewed hope. This hope may be naive, but I know I need to hang onto this because some days it is the only thing that gets me through. I hope that one day, I will be sitting in that nursery with a living, breathing, screaming baby that reminds me there are still good things that happen in this world.

Until then, the door of the nursery will now stay open instead of closed. I'll continue to go in there and read Brooklyn's story books to her. I can still feel her with me, and smell her from time to time. There is this relationship that starts with your child after they die. Unless you've experienced it, it is hard to explain, but it is something I will forever cherish.

Guest Post: A Friend's Perspective

Fiona asked me to talk about my perspective on this whole situation and as of right now as I have moved paragraphs around and read over what I've written and it all kind of seems jumbled and not very connected. But that's kind of what blogging is. It's a big long run-on sentence, or lots of paragraphs about different things that don't necessarily make sense. I thought about the things I would talk about and how I would want to remember Brooklyn, and how I've been affected by Brooklyn's death. There are so many things I would like to say that I just may have to write more than one entry. Bear with me as I type out my thoughts and feelings through this journey with my best friend.

Fiona and I have been friends since we were teenagers. Throughout highschool, we were attached at the hip. If you had to find one of us, you would call the other one. She has been my best friend now for 9 years and we have been through a lot together. Brooklyn's death is another notch on our friendship belt, and although it isn't a good road, it is one I will ride with her and stand beside her on. 

When I first found out Fiona was pregnant, I was over the moon excited for her. Selfishly, I was a little upset because Chris and I were not ready to have a baby, I had dreamed of being pregnant with her and having our babies grow up together. That feeling of frustration and anxiety is now a blessing. I know that Chris and I are not ready to have a baby for more reasons than just finances. They say you're never really "ready" to have a baby - but I know that God had a larger plan for us to not be pregnant at the same time as our best friends. We have been able to be there for them in ways not everyone could be. It's hard to explain, and it seems strange to say we weren't "ready" because of this… but I truly believe that we weren't ready because we were being prepared(as much as that makes sense) for this. He was allowing us to grow in our relationship and our friendship with Derek and Fiona so we could be there for them and fully support them. 

I've experienced death before in my life, both my grandfathers passed away when I was very young, my MorMor (Swedish for mother's mother) passed away when I was 10, a classmate when I was 11 and a close friend when I was 18. I had never felt so numb about a death before, I don't ever remember having that terrifying experience of death or really ever feeling so heartbroken when someone passed away. Until Brooklyn. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Babies aren't supposed to die. Only old people, and nothing tragic, just in their sleep. Unfortunately that isn't the way the world works. This was a different experience of death. This was something no one saw coming, and something that no one could prepare you for. Brooklyn was supposed to be the "big sister" of the kids in our group, she was supposed to be my honorary niece. I wanted to be able to pop over whenever I wanted to snuggle her, spoil her and let her mama sleep. Now I'm still popping over whenever I want to, but instead of letting her mama sleep, or stealing snuggles, I'm weeping with my best friend and my heart is broken for her. 

The death of Brooklyn Adelaide has changed me. It's changed my relationship with my husband, my parents, my friends who may not know Fiona well or at all. It has also changed my relationship with Fiona and with Derek. Change is not always a bad thing, but this isn't the change I was anticipating. I won't go into detail about how my other relationships have changed but I will talk about my relationship with Fiona.  My relationship with Fiona has always been an honest one, we are very close and are very honest with each other. If something is bothering one of us, we know it by the way we talk, act, the look on our face or even our body language.  We are now still very honest with each other, but there are more tears, and more questions and more time spent together talking about Brooklyn. The time we spend together now is also more intentional, sometimes it's sitting in a coffee shop or going for a drive but sometimes it's mindless, and sitting in silence and that's something I really treasure about my friendship with her. There is no awkward silence, there is no forced conversation. I feel honoured to be one of her "go-to" friends, I have always enjoyed being able to open up to Fiona, and I love the trust we have between the two of us. These last 2(ish) months have changed our relationship and we are definitely closer because of it. I'm blessed by her friendship. I'm proud to be in her life and to stand beside her. She may be quiet, but she is witty, sarcastic and incredibly loving. 

I look at life a little bit differently now, I used to be drawn to babies, peeking in every stroller, playing peekaboo in a lineup, trying to catch a smile from a little one but now I'm a bit more cautious so I don't approach a stroller and burst into tears. Its happened once or twice already and it makes people uncomfortable. The name Brooklyn seems to be everywhere. Working in a restaurant we sell Brooklyn lager, and I hadn't heard anyone order that beer, not even once, before she passed away. Now I hear it often. I'm a little less anxious about things, I've always been a little on the hyper side, if you know me at all you probably realized that within the first five minutes of meeting me. Now I realize that a lot of the things we worry about - are so tiny and so irrelevant. I sometimes overhear people saying things at work or in public and I want to look at them and say "THATS WHAT YOU'RE COMPLAINING ABOUT!?!" Don't get me wrong, there are things we can complain about, and we are all guilty of it… but at the same time it doesn't REALLY matter if you ordered your steak medium rare and it came out medium, or that shirt you wanted to buy that's on sale that is only left in XL or XXS. It doesn't matter that your beer isn't cold - I mean it would be nice… but there are worse things in the world. I'm not trying to say that unless something tragic happens we shouldn't complain, or that we shouldn't worry about things unless it's a BIG life event - but it could always be worse. That term "first world problems" really has never been more true.

 Not a day passes that I don't think about Brooklyn. Fiona and I have always been in contact throughout the week - even before she was pregnant. Now there are days where our text messages are just a heart emoticon back and forth. Or sometimes it's an I love you and I'm here for you. There are other days we have full conversations and we both are having good days. But there are a lot of days that I would give anything to see my best friend glowing again. To see her talk about those kicks and her moving around, to plan dates to spend time together. My heart is broken for my best friend. Yes, this story IS about Brooklyn, and it IS about honouring her and remembering her. But my sadness is so much more than just Brookie. My best friend will never be the same, a piece of her is missing and there is nothing I can do or say to fix that for her. I can try my best, and my hardest, and I have. I will continue to try to make her smile and make her feel appreciated and let her know that I am there for her. But I will never fill the void - and I'm okay with that because no one can ever replace Brooklyn. There are days where I want to distract Fiona from any of her thoughts of sadness and I want to protect her and let her just have a day of fun without being sad… but that's not why I'm her friend. I'm her friend so that she can cry around me, or tell me she doesn't feel like hanging out today, or tell me that she really needs someone today. 

On the way home from meeting Brooklyn on Saturday afternoon, I listened to a song by Serena Ryder called Mary Go Round. I've always loved the song, but it hits me a little bit harder now. 

"Have you ever looked up, and laughed at the big blue sky? Have you ever wondered, have you ever wondered why? Why you always hide. Sing along, sun down, Mary go round, too young to leave this town. Someone's singing your song, feels good, what could go wrong?" 

There are so many things that remind me of her, and I seem to always to play this song on my way to her grave when I go to visit her. I also have a habit of taking Gerbera daisies. These things now seem "normal." How does a sad song and a couple of pink Gerbera daisies on a tiny little grave become normal? There will be so many other things that will become normal in remembering her life, and I won't stop sharing those with the people around me.

I'll always remember you, Brooklyn. 

Auntie Sammy loves you.